


Twilight Lovers

by LaDonnaErrante



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, F/F, Political, Post War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-01
Updated: 2012-05-01
Packaged: 2017-11-27 16:44:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/664210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaDonnaErrante/pseuds/LaDonnaErrante
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: When James Potter dies to save his son’s life, Lily is left a widow. She finds an unlikely source of support in a witch whose allegiance is questionable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twilight Lovers

**Author's Note:**

> Gift for Tristesses for FemmeFest 2012.

A weak beam of sunlight, unusual for March, streams into the little London street. A young couple walks down the street. They look like any other young family in the city. The woman, sunlight glinting off her red hair, carries a toddler. The man stares down at the ground and purses his lips as he walks.

The boy looks around and babbles, “Biki mummy?” he says, pushing his small fingers into her face.

She playfully takes them in her mouth. “Num num num.”

They turn into a shaded alleyway and stop outside a metal warehouse door that appears rusted shut. “Here we are,” the man says. He holds out his arms for the boy. She hesitates.

*****

Outside the door of The Lady Bradamante Center for Magical and Mental Healing, Lily reluctantly kisses Harry on the cheek as she hands him over to Remus.

“It’ll be fine, Lily, you need to do this.” Remus nudges her gently towards the door. “Harry and I will be waiting for you when you’re done. Say bye-bye, Mummy.”

“Bye-bye, Mummy.” Harry waves.

She takes a deep breath, steels herself for what is to come and taps her wand at the rusty hinges to reveal a chic glass door. With a last look at Harry, she pushes the door open and steps into the center. Five months she has been putting this off, refusing to admit that a little extra support might be nice. Five months she has been crying herself to sleep and always wearing a smile for little Harry. Five months she has studiously avoided kissing Harry’s forehead. Five months she has left his hair long, combing it over the mark Voldemort left him. Five months she has been ignoring the holes that have been torn in their lives.

She steps up to the reception desk and asks for the war widow support group. The witch at reception, an elderly woman in pale blue robes, points her to the correct room.

She checks her clipboard. “Support Group for the Widows of the Great Wizarding War, lead by licensed clinical social support witch Narcissa Malfoy." A look of shock and disgust passes over Lily’s face.

“Problem, Ms.?”

“Mrs. Malfoy isn’t exactly a widow.”

“Yes, well, sometimes it helps to have an outsider perspective on things. And Ms. Malfoy is one of the most talented social support witches in London.”

Lily bites back a response. Even though He-Who-Must-Not-be-Named met his downfall, in her very home no less, political alliances are a touchy subject and she thinks it best not to share her chief complaint regarding any member of the Malfoy family.

_Lily Potter, it’s just an hour. If it’s that bad, you don’t have to come back._

She pushes open the door and enters the room. Several other women are sitting in a circle, quietly chatting.

A tall blonde woman, dressed in brown and grey robes, rises and holds out a slender, graceful hand. “Narcissa Malfoy, I’m the facilitator of the group.”

“Lily Potter, " she answers rather coldly. Ignoring Narcissa’s proffered hand won’t do, so she takes it mechanically, gripping firmly and shaking once. The pale, perfectly manicured hand is warmer than she expects. Lily notices that her fingers are long and graceful but not bony.

“Please, help yourself to tea.” Narcissa responds. Her expression is unreadable. “Sit wherever you’d like in the circle.”

Lily nods. She finds a seat near a group of women who look to be about her age, some of whom she recognizes. As she sits, the conversation comes to an abrupt halt. She fidgets nervously. Narcissa opens the group. Each woman introduces herself and recites the names of her dead. Women who have been coming for months know what to expect, giving soft looks, passing tissues to those who break down during their litany.

Before she knows what is happening, it is her turn. “I’m Lily Potter. Voldemort killed my husband James and tried to kill my son Harry.” No one in the room is surprised at this revelation. She is, after all, the mother of the Boy Who Lived.

As the discussion begins in earnest, Lily remains rather quiet. Observing the other women fills her with a sense of shame and longing.

“I just haven’t been the same since, I can’t seem to get out of bed in the mornings. And it isn’t fair. It isn’t fair the kids have lost their father and I’m not exactly being a good mother.” The brunette witch speaking bursts into tears.

Lily knows the woman; they’d been at Hogwarts together and ended up on opposite sides of the war. And yet here they are in the same group therapy session. Lily is incensed. She crosses her legs and arms and leans back in her chair with a huff.

Narcissa notices. “Anything you’d like to share with the group, Mrs. Potter?”

“Not bloody likely.”

“Next time perhaps then, hmm?” The group moves on to talk about coping strategies, but Lily barely hears a word of what is said.

The session ends and Lily picks up her purse. A hand touches her shoulder. “A moment, Mrs. Potter?” She feels as though she’s back at Hogwarts and is being asked to stay after class for giving the teacher lip. Lily Potter does not take well to being humiliated. She fumes.

“Mrs. Potter, I’m glad you’ve decided to give the group a try and I realize that trusting can be difficult in the beginning. But, part of what makes a group like this function is the courage of its members in sharing their pain.”

“Yes, well, I think it’s a bit unfair to ask me to take the advice of a Death Eater. Never mind share the horrors my family has been put through by your kind.”

Narcissa is visibly taken aback. She opens her mouth as if to argue and promptly closes it. _Should have seen this coming from the mother of the brat who lived._ “Mrs. Potter, as I am sure you noted, our ground rules state quite plainly that our space is a politics free one. It is essential, for members of the group to work through their pain together, that we do our best to check our political feelings at the door of the center.”

“—but—”

Narcissa is already down the hall before Lily has a chance to respond.

*****

Narcissa rises early. The sun has barely begun its ascent and with the curtains only slightly drawn a soft grey light greets her as she pads about her rooms getting ready for her day. She sits at the little table in her boudoir. Dobby brings her a tray of tea and toast and she holds the warm cup in her hand, closes her eyes and breathes in the dark citrus scent of Earl Grey. She treasures the few moments of peace at the beginning of each day, before Draco wakes in his crib, before a million social duties demand her attention, before she faces work.

Her privacy, she knows, is a benefit of position. It makes up some for the cost of being born into and then married off to some of England’s richest and most powerful Wizarding families. That cost is something she has brought upon herself by cowardice; this too she knows. She understands that each of her sisters had her own price to pay. But perhaps they are happier for having chosen differently? Bella certainly was, until five months ago when her world was ripped from under her feet. Is Andromeda? She shudders to think of her sister married to that awful _Muggleborn_. It hurts to think of Andromeda and her little girl, the niece she’s never met. She wonders, if she had been brave like Andromeda, what her fate might have been. Certainly cursed off the family tree and disinherited, possibly worse…her wand broken? Because good Pureblooded heiresses simply do not seek for the other team.

The light in her room has turned a pale golden color and she hears Draco begin to stir in his cradle. She puts down her tea, knowing it is only a matter of moments before he begins to cry. She waits until he does. But she must be ready. Lucius demands rather little of her in their private life, but picking up Draco before his cries reach Lucius’ rooms and wake him is one of the most strictly enforced.

Draco’s babbling takes on a distinctly whiny tone and Narcissa moves into the next room to pull the toddler from his crib. “Good morning sunshine,” her smile is forced bright. But when he wraps his arms around her and declares, “MOK!” she lets out a soft, genuine laugh. Dobby has left the bottle with a warming charm on it next to the rocker and she lets the rhythm of the chair soothe them both as he eats.

She brushes the fine blond hair from his pale forehead. “You look so much like your father. I hope you grow up to be as clever a man as he.” Silently, she wishes that he be spared Lucius’ contempt for the world at large. Lucius has been a rather gracious husband. He is exceedingly courteous with those he respects and unendingly scornful of those he does not. Having fulfilled her duty to produce an heir, she is assured a position among those he respects for the rest of her life.

Dobby’s presence brings her out of her reverie. “The missus is needing time to get ready for work now.”

Leaving Draco in the care of Dobby, she prepares herself to face the world.

*****

Lily is woken from her sleep by Harry’s full-on wails. She stumbles out of bed and picks him up. Swaying back and forth, she whispers, “I know you’re hungry, baby. I know, Mummy knows. And as soon as Uncle Remus shows up with your bottle, you’ll be a happy boy.”

She takes him over to the window, hoping to distract him with the sights, but alas, there isn’t much to see. The sky is grey, a typical Welsh morning, and the lush greenery is gorgeous, but isn’t something to distract a bawling toddler.

At last, Remus enters, bottle in hand. As Harry quiets, he begins to speak. “What time did you get back last night?”

She moans. “Ugh, we had a patient crash just before one. Healer Lundgren made me stay and observe the revival procedure. It was gone three before I left St. Mungo’s”.

He gives her a sympathetic look.

“At least I’ve the next thirty-six hours off. Nothing to do but kip and play with Harry.” She smiles.

He frowns. “You’ve got the support group today, haven’t you?

She shoots him a look. He raises an eyebrow. “I told you last week. I’m not going back.”

“You didn’t exactly present a convincing argument for why you refuse to continue."

She sighs. “Look, I’m doing fine. I’m coping, aren’t I? Harry is happy and healthy. Healer training is taking its toll, but I’m excelling. And I don’t need those women telling me how I am supposed to feel about my husband’s death.”

“Those women?”

“Death Eaters’ wives. Alecto Carrow. Chantilly Rosier. And if it wasn’t bad enough that they’re in the group, I told you, Narcissa Malfoy is the facilitator.”

“And are they not worthy of healing too?” Lily scoffs. His eyes flash with anger and his voice is quiet. “Not everyone who has ever loved a Death Eater is a Death Eater. Where is my support group, hmm?”

Lily lowers her eyes. Lupin barely takes a breath. “Hello, my name is Remus Lupin. I’m a gay werewolf and the love of my life betrayed me, murdered two of my best friends, not to mention thirteen Muggles, and will be locked up in Azkaban for the rest of his life. But sure, I’m fine, because he was on the wrong side and isn’t worth shedding a tear over. Get off your high horse, Lily. You want to deal by pretending you’re not affected? Fine. But never, ever say to me that you’re in a position to judge someone else’s pain.”

Tears stream down Lily’s cheeks. She knows she’s overstepped her bounds. “I…er…I’ll give it another try.”

“Good.” He turns on his heels and slams the door behind him. This sets Harry back to wailing. Lily takes comfort in pulling him close to her bosom and rocking him as she cries a good cry.

*****

Lily steels herself. She leaves Harry with Remus, as usual, and Apparates into the alleyway adjacent to Lady Bradamante’s.

The group completes their opening ritual, and then Narcissa asks if anyone is having a particular problem they would like to talk through with the group.

“I can’t seem to get a proper night’s sleep,” one witch offers. “I fall asleep okay, but I find myself waking up at the oddest times and for no reason. It’s just strange being in bed…alone.”

A moment of respectful silence ensues before Lily gets up the guts to speak. “I haven’t really slept since it happened. Shifts at St. Mungo’s and Harry’s changeable sleep schedule aside, I just have a hard time even getting ready for bed. That’s what we were doing, what James was doing. When it happened. Putting Harry to bed. We were in hiding together for so long, it was just the three of us…" Her voice goes low. “And when I close my eyes I can’t help going back to that night. He left me alive. He took James. He tried to take Harry. But he left me. Why did he leave me?” She swallows hard and tries to keep the tears from escaping.

Shelby Prewett quickly fills the space. “But he didn’t succeed. Thanks to your son, many people are alive today who might not otherwise be. And your son is alive.” She is genuine in trying to make Lily feel better. It only makes her ashamed that she is in pain.

Then Morgana Dearborn cuts in, her voice dripping with bitterness. “At least you know what happened to your husband. He and Harry _vanquished You-Know-Who._ You should be proud of James’ sacrifice.”

Lily goes pale.

Narcissa leans forward and puts out a soft hand. “I’d like to remind everyone that each of us is going through her own period of mourning and is dealing with her own pain. We each have different ways of doing that, and each of us here is only responsible for finding her own frame for coping. Judgment of others’ journeys is not acceptable.”

A look of gratitude passes over Lily’s face, but she does not speak for the rest of the time. Afterward she approaches Narcissa. “Thank you.” Narcissa raises an eyebrow. “For saying what you did.”

The barest hint of satisfaction crosses Narcissa’s lips. “That’s my job.”

“Yes, well, I was wondering if you might be willing to do a private session or two…er…it’s just that with everyone knowing who I am, what happened that night…”

Narcissa is taken aback by this request, and the trust implicit in it. “Yes, of course. I understand completely. Just one question before I take you on. Last week, you didn’t seem exactly comfortable with me, given my family’s history and my, uh, political associations. What’s changed?”

“A friend reminded me that the people you think you can trust aren’t always the ones you actually can.”

Narcissa gives a curt nod, and they schedule a regular time. She watches Lily walk out of the room, her hips swinging gracefully, and files away her attraction in the place in her head she keeps for things that might taint her professionalism.

******

Progress in therapy with Narcissa is rocky. Lily finds herself constantly reassuring Narcissa that she is doing fine. “It just feels so good to have something to do each day again after being in hiding. I wasn’t really meant for the life of a homemaker.”

There is a glint in her eye that Narcissa catches. “Nor was I, Mrs. Potter,” she says with a smile. “And it is good for me to know that you keep busy and feel capable of accomplishing your normal day to day tasks.” There is a ‘but’ lingering in the air and Lily knows it. “There are many ways to cope with a loss, Mrs. Potter. I think it’s important that you recognize your chosen method of coping. Denial can be quite healthy. You fill your day with work and mothering to avoid what it is you feel. For now, that's fine. But if you don’t allow yourself your own feelings, they will eat you up from the inside.”

There are few people who can see through Lily’s smokescreen, can tell that underneath it all she is in pain. Still fewer have the courage to tell her this.

*****

“Why Healing?” Narcissa asks her one morning.

“Dunno really. It’s what I started to train in before we went into hiding and now it just…makes sense.”

“Makes sense?”

“The war, there was so much damage. So many people dead, injured, insane. I need to be useful. I owe it to them, to become a Healer.”

“Owe whom?”

“The order, our friends, James. I owe them my life, I owe them Harry, because of what happened to them.”

“You feel responsible.” Narcissa lets it hang there.

“I am responsible.”

“For what?” Lily’s eyes fill with tears and there is a pregnant pause before Narcissa continues more gently. “When you’re ready to talk about it, I’ll be here to listen. But in the mean time, I suggest visiting the person themselves, even in the cemetery. Just facing them will help you face yourself.”

*****

The chilly spring fades into the soft warmth of early summer. Lily walks timidly into the irreversible spell damage ward at St. Mungo’s. She is here because Narcissa said to come, said facing Alice would help.

She knocks softly on the door of the Longbottoms’ room and enters. A woman sits quietly in a rocker and stares out the window.

“Hello,” Lily begins softly, sitting next to her. “Alice, it’s me, Lily.” The woman in the chair turned and gave a sort of blank smile that made Lily’s stomach turn. She pauses. “I…er…I don’t know what to say, really.”

A tear slides down her cheek. Lily does not know what the woman before her remembers or understands. Alice sees her crying and begins to cry, too. Lily takes her hand and the words come tumbling out.

“It makes me so angry, Alice, what happened to you, the way things ended. I was so young. I didn’t know what I wanted, I was scared. And that was never fair to you. You were so strong, Alice, a brilliant Auror, and I thought you’d always be there to protect me. I didn’t get that it wasn’t about me. None of it was. This whole stupid war, it was about all of us. James, he never meant to take me away from you. But he was just as young as me and twice as daft. He made his fight about protecting me. It was attractive. And I did love him for it. But…if I’d known. If I’d known this is how we’d end up….”

The tears are flowing freely now, and Lily grips Alice’s hand tightly. But Alice only smiles. There is sadness in her eyes, but something like a secret in the line around her upturned lips. Lily places a gentle kiss on the dry skin of the hand she’s been holding.

*****

It has only been two days since Lily Potter’s last appointment with Narcissa when the Floo in her office flashes green and Lily’s head appears in the ash.

“What can I do for you, Mrs. Potter?

“I came to tell you I’m not coming back.”

Narcissa is visibly surprised. Things have been going quite a bit better than she had expected given their difficult start, and she is beginning to admire Lily. “May I ask why?”

“I did what you asked,” she begins tersely.

“And?”

Lily’s green eyes flash with anger. “And it reminded me of who I am and why I fought for the Order. It made me realize I let myself trust you when I _never_ should have. You want me to feel my feelings? Well, I’m angry. At you. Your sister ruined my best friend, turned a brilliant witch into a madwoman.”

Narcissa’s pale face goes a shade whiter; she swallows hard. “I hardly see how my sister’s actions are relevant here.”

“Don’t tell me you actually believe that line you gave me about the healing process being apolitical. That’s bollocks.” Lily snorts and pulls her head out of the fire.

Narcissa is left alone in her office with much to think about. She sits back at her desk and tries to take in Lily’s words. It isn’t uncommon for a client to change counselors or give up the ghost altogether, but it’s the first time being sacked by a client has actually bothered her.

She shakes her head. _As if I am my sister’s keeper. As if I’m responsible for Bella’s penchant for violence._ But there’s something in the thought that gives her pause.

Even if she is not responsible for her sister’s actions, she is certainly responsible for her own. But what _were_ those actions exactly? She’d had no real interest in taking the mark, nor had Lucius forced her to, believing it was unfitting for the wife of a powerful wizard to be servile to anyone but her husband.

Was entertaining the wives of Death Eaters a crime? What if those cucumber sandwiches and tea had been consumed while husbands were planning to take innocent lives?

*****

As the sun sets on an early autumn day, warm and crisp, Lily prepares herself to go out for the first time since Halloween. Pale green robes, worn open, set off a golden jumper over a crisp white button down and dark jeans. She slides into loafers and surveys her appearance in the mirror.

“Too butch," it quips at her. “You’d look lovely in a skirt, dear.” Lily gives the mirror a cross look and sighs to herself as she sweeps her long red hair back into a bit of a twist and sticks a charmed pin in it, letting a strand or two fall about her face.

“Well that’s a bit better, anyways,” the mirror comments. Lily smiles to herself. She enjoys dressing: carefully choosing masculine and feminine elements, balancing Muggle and Wizarding styles, creating the version of herself she wishes to show.

But the pleasure of dressing up does not soak up her apprehension. She doesn’t exactly know what to expect from a gathering of gay witches and wizards. Remus has been attending ‘the salon’ for ages now, and so she supposes it must be worthwhile.

With one last look in the mirror and a kiss atop Harry’s head before leaving him with the sitter, she Floos to Albus Dumbledore’s private home.

The man himself is there to greet her as she steps out of the fire. He is resplendent in his robes of deep blue, his beard braided neatly. “Ah, Lily, how wonderful to see you here.” He holds out a well-jeweled hand to her. “Welcome, my dear, welcome to the Twilight Lovers Society.”

She steps out of the way of the Floo and scans the room. It is already somewhat crowded. Witches and wizards are milling about, drinks in hand. A piano in the corner plays itself, warming the room with light jazz. There are more familiar faces than she had counted on. It is unnerving; she is prepared for people to recognize her, for whispers to rush through the crowd. Her relationship with Alice was long before she was known as the female appendage of the Wizarding world’s two favorite heroes. But everyone is too caught up in using this precious time together as best they can to bother. A wave of relief washes over her as she approaches the counter with the drinks and pours herself a firewhiskey, turning around to see if she can find Remus.

As her eyes flit from person to person, they come to rest on the last person she expects to see here. Standing in a small group of people chatting lively, in light grey robes embroidered with green vines and bluebirds, stands Narcissa Malfoy. Her blonde curls frame her face, and Lily notices that her slender hand clasped around a flute of mulled mead is missing her wedding band. She does not let her eyes linger on Narcissa’s face, but cannot help looking back to where she is standing as the night progresses.

Several times, Lily feels a pair of eyes on her and looks around only to see Narcissa somewhere nearby. She finds it odd, given their last conversation, and does her best to avoid this woman who makes her feel so out of place in her own skin.

Lily gets caught in a discussion about queer rights in Muggle society and the possibilities of moving a gay rights agenda in the post-Voldemort era. The conversation goes late into the evening, and as the small group of discussants dissolves, she finds Narcissa unexpectedly seated next to her. Lily tenses.

“Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I could say the same thing.”

“Yes, well, I’ve been a regular attendee of Albus’ salons for quite a few years now.”

Lily’s eyes widen in surprise.

“Since before Lucius and I were married, in fact.”

“…but..er..You’re…er...”

“A Malfoy? A Black?” Narcissa chuckles a bit condescendingly. “You really haven’t yet learnt that there’s more to most than meets the eye.” Lily stiffens; Narcissa realizes her mistake and softens her tone. “Every society woman has secrets, guards them closely and plays her part impeccably.”

Lily’s attitude turns to something approaching empathy and she leans back a bit, relaxing slightly.

Narcissa barely smiles, but her face is warm, and the light in her blue eyes invites Lily to trust her. “Your first time here, I take it.”

Lily nods. “Never seemed much point before. James and all. And before James, there was Alice and she wasn’t much for this type of thing. Though from some of the stories Remus tells, I’ve missed out.” The ends of her mouth quirk into a sly smile and there is laughter in her green eyes.

“You see? There is much more to the golden mother of Wizarding society than papers say…And all this time I thought you were perfect Potter’s perfect wife.” Narcissa ventures a raised eyebrow.

“Mmm.” It is a sound of agreement, but there is a hint of hesitation. “I was devoted to him, but you know that, of course. Just that people expect that devotion to continue, for me to be some sort of model widow. It’s been nearly a year and I’m through with it.”

Narcissa nods affectionately. “I can see the headline in the Prophet now: Death Eater chats up Mother of Boy Who Lived at Pervert Party.”

Lily chuckles and then says in surprise, “Is that what this is?”

“Well it certainly isn’t Pureblood Families United.”

“No. I meant the chatting up bit.”

“Don’t tell me you couldn’t see this coming. You couldn’t keep your eyes off me all night.”

Lily flushes. Narcissa places a hand on her knee. Warm, graceful, Lily feels the weight of it on her. It is more physical contact than she’s had in nearly a year. Lily can’t help but lean towards her and tuck blonde curls behind Narcissa’s ear.

In the back of her brain, Lily is fighting a voice desperately trying to stop her, reminding her that she cannot trust this woman, who is a part of the reason Alice is gone. But the three tumblers of firewhiskey have gone to her head, and her superego doesn’t stand a chance.

Narcissa places her lips gently on Lily’s; she finds them soft and moist. Lily takes Narcissa’s top lip in between her own eagerly and sucks gently. She pulls Narcissa closer to her and her tongue seeks entrance into Narcissa’s mouth. Narcissa reaches a hand into Lily’s hair, pulling her closer and deepening the kiss.

They take their time, tongues gently exploring teeth and lips, and then they part. Lily feels the rise of something momentous within her, a surging feeling in her stomach that she cannot quite put her finger on.

There is a look of amazement in Narcissa’s eyes.

Lily brings a hand to her lips. The implications of what she has done and what she is feeling dawn on her. “I…er...babysitter.” She goes red, sits up, and leans forward in her chair, gathering her things.

“Don’t.” A hand grabs Lily’s wrist as she stands.

“What?” Lily shrugs it off.

“Run away. Ruin this.”

“I’m not doing this with you. There is no this.” She makes her way to the hearth and Floos home.

*****

Narcissa undresses slowly, thinking about the salon as she carefully undoes the buttons on her robe. She stands alone in her bedroom, facing the mirror in black lace panties and an expensive black bra. She remembers the softness of Lily’s lips on her own. She lets her fingertips ghost along her torso and arms as she reaches to undo her bra. She holds her breasts in her hands, making small circles with her thumb around a nipple, imagining the feel of Lily’s lips on her stomach.

As she slides a hand into her panties, the image of Lily’s face as she said _“there is no this”_ flashes in her head, and the fantasy is ruined.

She's misjudged, and she knows it. Expecting Lily to trust, with her body and heart no less, after the way her therapy had ended, was truly foolish. But there she was, Lily Potter, tall and lanky with that fire in her green eyes, and Narcissa couldn’t resist.

She knows it isn’t only Lily’s looks that captivate her. It is her manner, her intelligence and the moral clarity she seems to have. It is for all these reasons, Narcissa realizes, that she struck up the conversation. For these reasons, she was more transparent and forward than she has ever been. And Lily must know this on some level, because she had trusted enough to venture a kiss.

*****

It is another week before Narcissa figures out how to get in touch with Lily. She knows that with the Potter home destroyed, Lily had been staying with Remus Lupin, but he swears she moved out months ago, got a flat in London. After a few days of hunting around, Narcissa finally decides that she ought to just show up at St. Mungo’s.

She sees Lily Potter at the end of the long, sterile ward dressed in maroon robes that clash terribly with her red hair and indicate her status as a Healer-in-training. The tighter fit of medical robes shows off her figure quite well, ample breasts and a slightly rounded belly.

Lily approaches her and whispers through her teeth. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to talk with you.”

“I’m busy.”

“I’ve time. When you have a break. Coffee. My treat.”

“I’m off at three.”

*****

Two women step out of St. Mungo’s into the crisp autumn air. Lily breathes in deeply. This time of year always reminds her of starting at Hogwarts, of all that magic has brought into her life. With the events of last autumn, she can’t help but think on what it has taken from her as well.

They sip coffee in silence, bare arms feeling the contrast of warm sunshine and the cool metal of the iron café table. Narcissa avoids eye contact. Lily studies her features, intently trying to discern a motive in the twitch of her thin lips or the barely visible spot on her petite pointed nose.

“You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

Lily lets out an almost snort and looks away.

“Really, you have. What you said about Bella. It got me thinking. About the war, about my part in it. I never realized I really had one before.”

“What did you think?” Lily is incredulous.

“That I was only the wife. And whatever Lucius was doing was to protect us. To protect what is ours.”

“To keep your unearned wealth from falling into the hands of a Mudblood like me?”

Narcissa hesitates. “Well, yes…I suppose so.”

Lily is furious. “And was that worth the lives that were lost?”

“No. No, I don’t believe it was. Look, I’m not my sister and I’m not my husband. I didn’t kill people, or torture them. And I certainly didn’t laugh about it with Bella or encourage Lucius.”

“Humph.” Lily backs down slightly.

“I stayed neutral. It is my job to stay neutral, to produce an heir, to be a gracious hostess and a gracious guest. Nothing more or less is expected of me. I have done all of these things exceedingly well. And I don’t know if they were the right choices or not.”

“And now? In the aftermath of it all?”

“Lucius is protecting us, again, by recanting. And I decided I needed to go back to work. To play my part in the recovery, because as you pointed out once, the healing professions are excellent in the easing of guilt. And now there is Draco. And I want for him what any mother wants for her son: health, happiness, success.”

Realization dawns on Lily. “That’s the difference between you and me.”

“What?”

“I want all those things for Harry, but I want a better world for him, too. Where no one will call him Mudblood. Where Remus has the same financial security as you or I.”

Narcissa is taken aback. She has never thought about her world this way, and she suddenly understands that this is part of her attraction to Lily. “That would be nice, I guess. But it just doesn’t seem realistic to me.”

Lily thinks she is perhaps seeing Narcissa for the first time as she truly is. A woman who wants the best for her family. A woman whose fear of losing what privilege she has is preventing her from living her values. A woman who, in the face of social constraint, has managed to negotiate a place for herself. Lily wonders if that is enough.

Narcissa places a hand on Lily’s. “You said the other night that there wasn’t anything between us. Is that still the case?”

Lily blushes. “Denial. It’s my coping technique. But you know that better than anyone.” They laugh. Narcissa’s long fingers softly stroke her own, rubbing soft circles on the back of her hand. She tingles with anticipation.

“Let’s go somewhere.” Lily declares with all the bluntness of her twenty-two years. Narcissa rises.

“The Manor is too busy this time of day.”

“My flat? Remus is watching Harry at his place until half six.”

Narcissa nods. Lily takes a hand and slips one of her own behind Narcissa’s back. With a crack, she pulls her along, and they Apparate to the doorstep of Lily’s flat in a magical building not far from the hospital.

They make their way to Lily’s bedroom, leaving coats and purses in their wake. Lily places a small kiss on Narcissa’s lips and then begins to mouth her neck, kissing and biting and sucking as Narcissa lets her hands roam across Lily’s back and sides. Narcissa kisses Lily’s forehead, brings her hand round to Lily’s head and gently brings her back up so that their mouths are level. Tongues find one another. They remember well their dance of the week before. Lily’s small hands move to Narcissa’s robes and she begins to undo buttons. She lets her hands slip in between Narcissa’s robes and skin, feeling the small bumps of bone on her back. She peels the robe completely off as Narcissa unzips Lily’s uniform and does the same.

Lily runs her hands down Narcissa’s naked torso; Narcissa shivers at the light touch of fingertips. They stop, pause a moment to take in the sight of one another. Narcissa drinks in Lily’s pale skin dappled with freckles. The no-nonsense white underwear and bra that are well filled out, and the pudge on her stomach and hips. Lily stares at Narcissa’s figure, noticing the muscles in her arms and calves.

They move to the bed. Late afternoon sunlight streams in through the window, casting mottled shadows over their bare skin glistening with sweat. They take their time exploring one another. Lily traces the contours of Narcissa’s body with her tongue, biting gently at each nipple and drinking in the moan it produces. Narcissa arches up towards Lily, their bodies meeting and then separating. She flips Lily carefully onto her back.

“Do you trust me?”

“What?” Lily is breathless.

“Can I tie you up?” Lily nods, the look of desire in her eyes increasing.

Narcissa summons her wand. Lily’s hands are bound to the headboard by a soft black cord and she is blindfolded. Narcissa bends down to kiss her. “You should know," Lily says, "I don’t particularly like giving up control for long.”

“Mmm,” Narcissa acknowledges.

Narcissa’s graceful fingers find their way to Lily’s belly and drag slowly up before feathering lightly over every part of her chest, except her breasts until Lily moans, “Please.” Narcissa traces concentric circles with the back of her nail starting at the outside of each plump breast, then rolling Lily’s pink, hard nipples between her thumb and forefinger. Lily gasps, as she feels one of Narcissa’s hands unexpectedly rubbing lightly over her inner thigh. The other brushes lightly through her pubic hair, and Lily can feel her own wetness.

Lily writhes as Narcissa teases her, rubbing thighs and stomach and hips, but not where she needs it most. Narcissa’s lips find their way back to Lily’s breasts, and Lily finds herself struggling against the bonds that hold her.

“I want to touch you.” She moans. “Narcissa….please....”

Narcissa feels a pull in her groin and a longing to be touched, so she releases one of Lily’s hands. “I want you inside me,” she gasps. She leans over Lily, her hips square above Lily’s.

Lily slides her free hand between their two bodies, caressing nipples and stomach, running her fingers over Narcissa’s thighs. Narcissa’s moans become needier, and Lily reaches into Narcissa from behind. Lily slides her thumb over Narcissa’s wet clit and places her index finger into Narcissa’s slick opening. She feels Narcissa close around her finger and push back as she slips it gently in and out.

Narcissa braces herself with one outstretched arm near Lily’s head and brings her other hand back down to finish what it had started. Her fingers ghost gently over the folds of Lily’s vagina. She picks up some of its moisture and finds Lily’s clit, brushing over it once or twice just to hear her small groans.

Narcissa grunts. “More.”

Lily inserts another finger, reveling in the feeling of Narcissa contracting around her. Her thumb continues to swirl against Narcissa’s swollen nub. Narcissa’s fingers work like magic on her clit, rubbing circles as Lily arches up into her touch, panting and moaning. Lily takes one of Narcissa’s nipples in her mouth and her fingers bend to find and caress the spongy bump. Narcissa gives a shout and Lily continues to thrust with her hand and stroke until the stimulation is too much. The squeeze on her fingers tightens and Narcissa screams.

The sound of Narcissa’s moans and gasps increases Lily’s need, and she arches into Narcissa’s touch with every movement of those graceful hands. She feels her body seize, one of her legs goes numb, and a burst of wetness covers the sheets. Narcissa collapses on top of her; chests heaving and sweaty, they kiss.

*****

The two women dress in silence. The air hangs thick between them, pregnant with questions.

When clothes are back on and flyaway hairs have been smoothed, Lily finally speaks. “Is this…Are we…?”

“What?”

“I mean, what are we calling…er…us?”

Narcissa sobers. “I don’t really know what you might be expecting, and perhaps we should have talked about this before that delightful escapade. I’m not looking for anything serious. My life with Draco and Lucius is more or less set in stone.”

A look of relief passes over Lily’s face. “Good…that’s good. I’m not exactly up for a life partner at the moment either.”

Lily looks for a moment as if she were going to ask another question. Narcissa can tell they are not exactly on good footing quite yet. “What is it?”

“Does it bother you that I’m Muggleborn?”

Narcissa is surprised. She splutters for a moment. “I suppose I never really thought about it.” She is surprised that this is the answer that comes naturally to her lips. She moves towards Lily and brushes a stray hair from her face. “In the papers you were always Mrs. Potter, and once you married into a Pureblood family it didn’t really occur to me that you could be anything else—the Prophet painted such a porcelain portrait. But from the day you walked into that support group, I knew they had you all wrong.”

“You knew I was queer?”

“Not exactly. Just that there’s more to you than Rita Skeeter will ever be able to find out.”

Lily laughs and places a gentle kiss on her lover’s mouth.

*****

In the twilight of an autumn day, two women stand silhouetted in the window of a Diagon Alley flat. A hand reaches to cup a cheek. They kiss softly. Stepping away from the window, they move in the soft lamplight to join their toddlers playing quietly in the next room.  



End file.
